


Like Your Heartbeat (The Sound of the Cosmos)

by auroreanrave



Series: trust your senses [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Minor Violence, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' heartbeat is distressing Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Your Heartbeat (The Sound of the Cosmos)

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of 'Teen Wolf' ficlets or short pieces focused around the five senses. This one is based around the sense of 'touch.

Stiles' heartbeat is distressing Derek.

He's running, running through the trees. Bare feet, hands clenched. Something is pulling at a wire in his blood. Twisting. Coursing. Derek's never been so afraid, not for years.

It's all Derek can hear. All the time. Stiles' heartbeat is everywhere. No matter how much he's tried seeing if music blocks it, or noise, it always makes its way back to him. When they're fighting, when they're fucking. Kissing at the movies or at the grocery store, it's always the same. Slow, steady. _His_.

He wonders if it's the same for Stiles. If he can _feel_ this.

The sound is getting closer now and the smell of blood lies heavy and thick in the air and it hits Derek like a freight train to the chest. He can't breathe. Can barely force oxygen into his lungs, his legs burning.

He keeps on running, closer and closer to the smell of his mate - his _mate_ , Derek thinks, the first time he's ever called him that mentally - in danger, in distress. He can't bear it. Has to keep running to trust his senses. Trust the instinct.

Stiles is scrambling backwards from a clearing when Derek finds him. The remains of a shattered lacrosse stick in one hand, other hand clamped around a vicious-looking but shallow laceration to his bicep. yes wide.

Something looms over him, dark and clawed and smelling just wrong and Derek can hear Stiles' heartbeat as if it's his own. He's scared, more scared than he would ever admit, even in death, and it is killing Derek.

Derek launches off one foot, a small hill giving him the momentum he needs to slash his claws clean across the thing's throat, dark ichor spraying out. The thing screeches, hollow and unearthly and crashes to the forest floor, hands clawing to stem the wound.

Stiles looks up at Derek and Derek knows what he sees. Claws outstretched, shirt torn, eyes red as blood. He doesn't care. Possessive rage thrills through him like a rhythm.

Derek can hear Stiles' heart start to calm down, still pounding dangerously, but he knows that Stiles knows he's safe. Derek bends, careful and soft, and presses his mouth to the pulse of Stiles' throat, a long measure of safety. He's calm. Stiles is alright.

Something just tried to hurt Derek's mate. Derek knows that will never happen again. Or _ever_.

He kisses Stiles, fangs and all and still tender, and pushes him back against the dirt, so that when Derek turns around and begins to _tear_ this creature apart piece by piece, Stiles' heartbeat won't spike and become raised once more and will settle down into the beat that Derek knows, in his core, that belongs to _him_.


End file.
